


Manly Tree Spanking, or, How Lydia Martin Couldn't Let Stiles Be His Own Matchmaker

by medrengirl



Series: Inspired by the AO3 Tag Generator [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lydia POV, M/M, Matchmaker Lydia, Rituals, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles POV, Stiles in Denial, bad poetry masquerading as a love spell, manly tree spanking, sparkly dicks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 19:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4191891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medrengirl/pseuds/medrengirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, come on, this is brilliant,” Stiles complained. “I don’t have anyone with any sexual or romantic interest in me, and going out for random hookups and saying, ‘hi, I’m Stiles Stilinski and I need you to have sex with me so that I can complete a pagan spell to protect Beacon Hills from various monsters’ just is not really feasible.”<br/>———————————————<br/>Lydia finds Stiles doing something very weird in the Preserve. Turns out he’s working on a ritual to help him with his spark training, though Lydia thinks he probably wouldn’t need magical help if he wasn’t so oblivious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *ahem* cursor_mundi sent me a link to [this AO3 tag generator](http://generatorland.com/usergenerator.aspx?id=9094), and when I came up with “manly tree spanking” she insisted I write it (though she is slightly sad I’m writing this in TW instead of one of her fandoms). She also was lovely enough to provide some beta services as I was writing this very quickly. 
> 
> Some of the language from the spell comes from [this website](http://starfirescircle.com/LoveSpells.html), though I’ve heavily rewritten it. 
> 
> No trees have been harmed in the making of this fic. [Tree spanking](http://forums.gardenweb.com/discussions/1892659/tree-trunk-bashing%20) to [produce sap](http://www.azcentral.com/news/columns/articles/0318clay0318.html), however, is a real thing in the sense of it being an idea that occasionally gets passed around (it is the result of a bizarre old wives’ tale, it doesn’t actually work).

Lydia Martin had seen many strange things among the trees of the Beacon Hills Preserve, but this… this she had not seen before. “Stiles, what are you doing?” 

“Uh… what does it look like I’m doing?” Stiles looked at her, wide eyed. The sun was still shining, but already down below the tree line, meaning the shadows and light played across his face. 

“It looks like you are spanking that tree.” Stiles had been holding a branch still with one hand, while using his other hand to hit the branch with rolled up newspaper.

“Yes! That’s exactly what I’m doing. In a manly, manly fashion. Manly tree spanking. It’s a thing.”

“ _Manly_ tree spanking?”

“Manly! This is deeply connected to my manhood.” 

Lydia thought Stiles was protesting a bit too much. “I think your penis would be involved if that was true.”

“Uh.”

“Stiles.”

“No, seriously, it’s part of a druidic ritual for my spark. Spanking awakens the sap.”

“The sap.”

“The sap! Rocky Mountain Maples, of which this is an exemplary specimen, can produce lots of sap when properly motivated by spanking. I need the sap for the next step of the ritual.” Stiles was no longer looking at Lydia, but proceeding to break off the tree limb that he had previously been spanking. There was an awful lot of sap oozing from the break, she had to admit. 

“And what exactly is this ritual for?”

“Uh…” Stiles refused to meet her gaze as he did something that drew the sap into a small jar he had brought with him.

“Stiles!”

“Okay, okay! I, uh, I was looking through this book Deaton gave me, and there’s this ritual spell that a spark can do to, uh, draw someone to them.”

“Draw someone to them.” Lydia’s voice was devoid of emotion.

“Why do you keep repeating what I’m saying, Lydia?”

“It’s because you keep saying things that have no meaning in order to try and keep me from understanding _what the hell you are doing_. Now, if you don’t explain in clear, precise detail, I will be forced to tell your father that I caught you in the preserve engaging in manly tree spanking.” Lydia crossed her arms over her chest.

“He wouldn’t know what that meant.”

“Exactly. He’d ask  _you_ what I meant.”

“You are a cruel, cruel woman.”

“This is news?”

“Okay, true,” Stiles sighed. “So, the ritual is designed to help a spark identify the perfect romantic and sexual match by drawing the match to the spark’s vicinity. Because a lot of spark spells require a partner that the spark can trust implicitly, and who is willing to engage in sexual activities. Because sex is life, life is power, yada yada. To move further in my training, I have to, well, find that partner.” 

Lydia looked at Stiles incredulously. “You had better not be expecting this match to be me.”

“What? No. NO!” Stiles stammered and flailed a bit. “I haven’t even started the ritual proper yet! And I haven’t been in love with you for ages now!”

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any idea who this spell will actually draw to you, or how long it will take?”

“No clue. The spell is very clear, it will draw the best living match to me, but it could take some time, because if the match is all the way across the country—”

“or around the world, Stiles.”

“—or around the world, they’ll have to get here, and this spell does not have the juice to teleport someone.”

“How are you supposed to know whether or not the person is drawn to you because of the spell as opposed to just showing up?”

“That’s what the tree sap is for.” He tapped the jar in his hand, which now held a surprisingly large amount of green sap. “It will turn purple once the person gets within arm’s length.”

“So you’re going to carry around a jar of tree sap until someone gets close enough to you to turn the sap purple.”

“Well, not in the jar, but yes, I’ll be carrying some sap around with me for a while.”

“This is not the stupidest thing you’ve ever tried, Stiles, but it might be silliest.” And Stiles had done some incredibly silly things in the past. Lydia had been present for an absurd number of them.

“Oh, come on, this is brilliant,” Stiles complained. “I don’t have anyone with any sexual or romantic interest in me, and going out for random hookups and saying, ‘hi, I’m Stiles Stilinski and I need you to have sex with me so that I can complete a pagan spell to protect Beacon Hills from various monsters’ just is not really feasible.” 

Lydia looked at Stiles, and said flatly, “There’s no one with any sexual or romantic interest you in Beacon Hills.”

“You say that like it’s a rhetorical question. Of course there’s not. Otherwise I would likely be in a sexual and or romantic relationship.”

Lydia was really not sure how Stiles could be quite so oblivious, but fine, if he wanted to play it that way, she could humor him. Maybe this would finally be enough to make him realize exactly what he’d been ignoring for… well, it was probably years at this point. “Okay, Stiles. What exactly do you need to do to complete this ritual besides manly tree spanking?”

———————————————

The ritual was surprisingly simple in most respects, but since Stiles claimed it was actually a fairly common spell for beginner sparks, perhaps that was a good thing.

“Um. You might not want to be here for this, Lyds.”

“Why not?”

“Because while my manhood has not yet been involved, it will be.”

“Stiles, we both know I am not your perfect romantic or sexual partner, and you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. I am not going to swoon at the sight of your penis.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’d be the uncomfortable one! I may not be in love with you now, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about—I should stop now before I put my foot further in my mouth, shouldn’t I.”

“Unless you like the taste. Focus, Stiles.”

“Okay, okay!” 

Lydia watched as Stiles sat on the ground. In front of him, he jammed a stick into the ground until it could stand upright and withstand a bit of tugging. With the jar of sap next to him, he pulled four colored strings out of his pocket and tied the ends around the stick. He dipped his fingers into the sap, coating the strings with it. Then, whispering under his breath, he began to braid. At first, Lydia thought it was the words of the ritual, but then she heard “—under, over, over, under—” and she burst out laughing.

“How long did you practice braiding, Stiles, before you got the hang of it?”

“I don’t think I need to tell you that,” Stiles muttered. “Three is easy, but four is hard.”

“Why four?”

“Three is a traditional love knot. But I have to have four, because I also have a spark. Now shush, I have to concentrate or I’ll screw this up. And the sap just makes it harder!” he said as he dipped his fingers in and re-coated the strings.

“That’s what she said,” Lydia said,  _sotto voce_ . Stiles just glared at her.

It took him a few more minutes to complete the braid. “Are you really sure you have to be here for this, Lydia?” he whined as he stood up.

“If you think I’m going to not be here when you’re doing something this hilarious, you really need to think again. Now, strip. You said you need to be skyclad for this part.”

Stiles grumbled the entire time he was taking off his clothes. When he was down to just his boxers, he looked at Lydia. “Do you have to actually  _look_ at me while I do this?” His voice was plaintive.

Lydia sighed and turned around. “Well, how’s it going, Stiles?” she asked after a few moments.

“I’m trying to tie string covered in tree sap in an intricate, ritual knot around my dick, how do you think it’s going?”

Lydia turned back around. 

“Hey!”

“I’m sorry, this is too funny not to watch. You should just be glad I’m not pulling out my phone to take video.”

“Oh my god, Lydia! I can’t even cover myself because I have to tie. this. damn. bow.”

“Why do you have to tie it around your penis like that anyway? It’s not like women would be able to do that. Women can be sparks, can’t they?”

“Yes, women can be sparks. They just have to tie it in a special shape and, uh, insert it into their, you know.”

“Vagina. The fact that you can’t bring yourself to name basic anatomy is disturbing, Stiles. So the shape and placement of the string is symbolic of the sexual relationship you’re aiming for?”

“Yeah, I guess?”

“But you’re bi, right?”

“Yes?”

“So what if your perfect sexual partner is a man, and you’re the bottom?”

“Oh my GOD, Lydia!”

“Never mind, Stiles, I didn’t mean to disrupt your carefully preserved sexual paradigm. Proceed.” 

“I’m bi! Carefully preserved sexual paradigm my ass,” Stiles grumbled.

“The string would be in your ass, not on your dick if that was the case.”

“It’s  _symbolic_ , Lydia!” Stiles squawked. Lydia just raised an eyebrow. 

Stiles glared. “Screw you.” 

“No, the point is to find someone else to screw you,” Lydia said in her most sweet, saccharine tone of voice.

“I should know better by now than to get into a war of words with you,” Stiles sighed.

“Maybe you should use those words of yours to get on with the ritual?”

Stiles huffed. “Okay, but you cannot interrupt this, or who knows what could go wrong. And please, please do not laugh.”

“Cross my heart and hope not to die.”

When Stiles closed his eyes and begin to recite, it caught Lydia by surprise, because all of a sudden, his voice was different. There was something that felt deeper, something below sound. Almost the opposite of her own screams.

_I call to thee, dear beloved one,_  
_To draw thou ever nearer_  
_If thou canst love me more than anyone,_  
_May thy path to me be clearer._  
  
_A love that's true thou will find_  
_And know thy journey's perfect end._  
_In thy heart and soul and mind_  
_May thou believe our lives should blend._  
  
_In return for thy devotion,_  
_I will bind my heart and spark to thee_  
_Forever in harmony and in motion._  
_So as I will it so mote it be._  


It was a lovely poem, even if the scansion was a bit off in places, Lydia thought, but what really sold it was the tiny, twinkly, greenish lights that were now encircling Stiles’ flaccid penis. 

“Do you think those will stick around until your one true love shows up?”

“What?” Stiles opened his eyes and looked at her.

“The lights,” she said, gesturing towards his crotch.

Stiles looked down, sighed, and said, “God, I hope not.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Lydia watched as Stiles grabbed his boxers and pulled them up to cover himself, which only partly worked because the lights were still visible through the thin fabric. “Well, I guess I know it worked?” he said as he pulled a book out of his book bag and opened it to a marked page.

Lydia hummed in agreement. After a moment, she realized that she was still staring at Stiles’ penis and the pretty lights, and it was probably starting to be creepy. “Okay, now what?” she asked, dragging her eyes up to his face.

“The book says I should be able to take the string off and wrap it around my wrist soon. Wouldn’t be much good if you had to constantly check your dick or vagina—see, I can too say the word—every time you met someone. The lights fading will be a sign that the magic is dormant. They should reawaken in a purple color whenever the string is finally in arms reach of whoever the spell has called.” Stiles looked up from the book. “Lydia, if you want to double check that we’re not a perfect match, you should come over here.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, but came closer to Stiles. When she was close enough to touch, they dropped their eyes down to his crotch again. When the glowing lights didn’t change color, Stiles heaved a sigh of relief. “We’re safe!” Stiles announced.

“Safe?” she drawled.

“Safe? Safe from what?” 

The voice came from behind Stiles, who flailed as he turned. “Scott! What the hell, man?” Stiles looked like he was about to say something more, but then a look of abject horror crossed his face. “Oh, no, no, no, no. This cannot be happening.”

“Calm down,” Lydia said. “Scott’s not going to be the one who turns them purple.”

“Turn what purple?” Scott asked, coming closer. “And why are you wearing Christmas lights under your boxers, Stiles?” 

“They’re not Christmas lights, they are the remains of a spell, and I probably better get this over with before I completely lose my mind,” Stiles said as he strode towards Scott. He stopped an arm’s length from Scott, dropped his eyes down to his crotch, and then punched Scott in the shoulder when the lights stayed green. “Oh, thank god. I did not want to try and figure out how to explain to Kira that you are my perfect romantic partner.”

“What?” Scott exclaimed.

“I said I  _didn’t_ want to, Scott, and it is now clearly out of the realm of possibility, for which we will both be eternally grateful.”

“I don’t understand how it was ever  _in_ the realm of possibility, Stiles.”

“Magic.” Stiles waggled his fingers in jazz hands.  


“You were trying to magic me into being your perfect romantic partner? Why would you do that?”

“No, I wasn’t trying to turn anyone into anything! I did a spell that will help me find my perfect romantic and sexual partner. Hence the lights. They’ll turn purple when the person shows up.”

“The green lights around your dick will turn purple when you find the perfect person to have sex with you?” Scott’s voice was dubious. 

“Well, the green lights are supposed to wear off in a few minutes, and then I can take off the string. And it’s not helping me find just  _anyone_ to have sex with me, it’s my best possible match, for spark purposes.”

“For spark purposes,” Scott said flatly.

“What is it today with everyone just repeating the last few words of what I just said back to me?”

Lydia laughed. “Again, Stiles, you’re not really succeeding at  _explaining_ anything, no matter how much you are talking.”

“Okay, fine, from the beginning. No interrupting, Scott,” Stiles warned, and then gave Scott roughly the same explanation he had given Lydia. “And so now I have a string tied around my dick that will turn purple when the best possible match for me shows up, but I can take the string off as soon as the green lights go away.”

“So you’re just going to be waiting around until your match shows up?”

Stiles shrugged. “I guess? I mean, the person could show up a month from now, or a year. I have no way of knowing.”

“I doubt you’ll be waiting a month, much less a year,” Lydia announced. 

“You were the one saying that the person could be coming from around the world!” Stiles said.

Lydia stared at Stiles incredulously, but then decided to play along. “They have these things called planes now, Stiles. They fly through the air and can get you across the world in under 24 hours.”

“Oh. Right.” 

Lydia turned to Scott. “I’m heading home. You need a ride, yes? You ran out here?”

Scott looked at Lydia in confusion. “I usually get a ride from Stiles if—”

“Stiles is going to be busy obsessing over a string on his dick, and so you are getting a ride from me. Come on,” she said as she strode out of the Preserve towards her car. “Stiles, you are going to go home and try not to obsess about that string on your dick,” she called back as Scott looked between the two of them in confusion. 

Then, under her voice so that Scott would hear but Stiles wouldn’t, she said, “I have a pretty good idea who will be turning those lights purple. If you want to know who it is, you’ll come with me, Scott.” Scott gave one last look at Stiles, then trotted after Lydia.

When they were in the car, Lydia turned to Scott. “I need you to text Derek.” 

“What, why?”

“Tell him Stiles is working on some research at home, and he’ll probably need Derek’s help on some of it.”

“But Stiles isn’t working on any research, except this spark stuff—”

“Exactly.”

Scott’s eyes widened. “You think Derek will turn the lights purple?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the way Derek looks at him when Stiles isn’t watching.”

Scott grinned. “I hadn’t really, but that might be mostly because I was trying to ignore the way Stiles smells when Derek is around.”

“Smells? No, wait, don’t answer that,” Lydia said, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”

“I’ll text Derek when I get home. That should give Stiles enough time to get back to his place.” 

Lydia started her car. After a few moments of driving, Scott spoke up. “But I thought the spell would draw the person to him?”

“Do you really want to wait for Derek to come around to magical pressure to finally get close enough to Stiles to turn those lights purple? Or to think that it was  _magic_ that brought him there? If we get him there, he might resent us, but he won’t resent Stiles. If it’s Stiles’ magic that pulls him in… they’re more likely to screw things up. Besides, we can probably speed things up this way.” Lydia pulled up next to Scott’s house. “Text Derek. Stiles should be home by now.”


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles really wasn’t sure why Lydia had dragged Scott off, but he pushed it out of his mind. He pulled his pants up over his boxers (and was extraordinarily grateful that the double layer of fabric was enough to keep the lights from showing, because he couldn’t imagine what the neighbors would think if he climbed out of his jeep with lights shining out from his crotch) and gathered the rest of his things and headed home.

Stiles’ stomach was in tied knots. (Of course, so was his dick. Heh. Dicks. Knots. Stiles knew his jokes were not always as funny to everyone else as they were to him, but that wasn’t about to stop his internal monologue. Or his external monologue, either.) He wasn’t sure if he could handle waiting for months to find out who the magical universe had decided was his ideal partner. This was worse that waiting to find out where he’d been accepted to college last year. College only lasted four years. He could transfer if he didn’t like it. This… whatever this would be, was supposed to last him a lifetime, or close to it.

And while he was glad that he’d finally be able move on to the next stage of his training (though he was not relishing having to talk with Deaton about partner based magic, because discussing his sex life with that man deserved only a hell to the no), at least in his head he could be honest. He was going to know he would be having sex with someone before he even  _met_ the person. This was starting to feel like a magically induced arranged marriage. That was… disconcerting at best.

When Stiles got home, he stripped down, and was relieved to see that the string had stopped glowing. He untied it, carefully disentangling it as he went—god, this was so weird—and set it next to his bed. He’d wear it around his wrist tomorrow. 

He looked down at his feet. They were filthy from being out in the preserve without his shoes on. A shower was definitely in order.

Under the spray, he looked down at himself. 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones. Well, he was probably up to more like 160 now. He had put on another inch and some muscle in the year he’d been at college. At least his freshman fifteen hadn’t been the result of too much ice cream in the cafeteria and insufficient exercise. His match wouldn’t be  too disappointed, he hoped. Of course, if the person was really his match, he couldn’t be disappointing, could he? Or was it only a one way thing? They were his perfect match, but maybe he wouldn’t be theirs? That idea was almost too depressing for words.

He had to take extra care scrubbing himself down. There was some lingering tree sap on his dick that simply  _did not_ want to come off. “Awkward!” he crooned to himself. 

Normally at this part of a shower, he’d be contemplating—if not outright engaging in—a good jerk off session. But somehow, he just wasn’t feeling it. So he just finished washing up and climbed out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and then walked back to his bedroom.

He was a few feet inside his room when he realized that Derek was in his room. Standing next to his bed. Holding a string with glowing purple lights.

Derek turned at looked at him. “What is this? I came in, and it started glowing.”

“Oh, fuck me,” Stiles whispered, then realized what he said and promptly blushed bright red. “What are you doing here, Derek?” he asked, postponing the inevitable.

“Scott texted me. He said you needed help with some sort of research.” Derek turned the string over in his hand, watching the lights that seemed to dance around his wrist. 

“He what?” Stiles clutched his towel tighter around his waist. 

Derek finally turned his gaze to Stiles. “He texted me.” Derek frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“I think we’ve been set up. No, I’ve been completely, horribly set up.” 

“Set up? By Scott?”

“Not Scott. Scott is a pawn. He may be a true alpha, but he’s also subject to the manipulation of an evil, evil banshee named Lydia Martin.”

“Lydia has gone evil?”

“No!” Stiles said. “Not literal evil, metaphorical evil. She has somehow managed to turn this into the most embarrassing night of my life. First she makes me strip naked in front of her, and now this! I don’t know how she knew this would happen, but somehow she did.” 

Derek looked non-plussed. “Lydia made you strip?”

“Well, I had to do it whether she was there or not, but she wouldn’t  _leave_ . Or look away. She even threatened to take video!” That wasn’t strictly true, but she had looked back. That was close enough to truth.

Derek folded his arms over his chest. “I think you had better start from the beginning.” 

Oh, god. That is exactly what Stiles didn’t want to do. Explaining this all to Derek… Stiles looked at the string held loosely in Derek’s hand, the purple lights glowing softly but persistently. Derek was his perfect match. Derek Hale was his perfect romantic and sexual partner. Stiles felt the heat from his cheeks spreading down his face, starting to turn from embarrassment to arousal. He was beginning to realize that this was perhaps a secret desire that he had hidden even from himself. 

Damn Lydia. How the hell had she known?

“Can we sit down for this?” Stiles asked. Derek nodded, and sat on the bed. Stiles contemplated sitting next to him, but decided that wasn’t a good idea. Instead, he pulled his desk chair over so he could face Derek. 

Stiles rubbed his hand over his face and through his hair, which was still damp. He breathed deep. And then he let the whole story spill out. Even the parts he hadn’t told Lydia. Finding the spell in the book. Figuring out why it was important. Trying (and probably failing) to subtly ask Deaton whether partner magic was as important as it seemed for sparks—it was. How he spanked the tree and got the sap. How he braided the string and the sap together, how  _the string that was currently in Derek’s hand had been tied around his dick_ . Miracle of miracles, Derek didn’t put the string down in disgust, but just gripped it a little more tightly. Stiles recited the words of the spell again, hoping that the words would allay Derek’s concerns (unvoiced, but Stiles was certain were there) that the spell involved coercion. “And the purple lights are supposed to indicate that we’re, well, a match,” Stiles finished.

“The perfect match, you mean.” Derek said. Stiles flushed, and nodded.

“But the spell didn’t call me. Scott did.”

“Well, yes? Or no. I mean, maybe the spell influenced Lydia, who influenced Scott to get you here? I’ll admit, I don’t know about the mechanics of this. It’s magic!”

“But it didn’t make us,” Derek gestured between the two of them, “this match, right? It really just gave us confirmation.”

“Yea— wait, us?” Stiles felt his heart lurch in his chest.

“No, me and Scott. Of course us.” 

“So, you’re okay with this? You’re not mad at me for,” Stiles flailed his arms, “for, for all this? for the spell?”

Suddenly, Derek was surging across the space between them, and the chair was rolling back before Derek grabbed it and pulled it back towards him, towards the bed, and then Derek’s lips were on his, and Stiles felt like he was being overwhelmed by how bizarrely good Derek’s scruff felt against his chin. The kiss was gentle and soft and warm, and all those knots in Stiles’ stomach that had been there ever since he had finished the spell seemed to loosen and dissolve leaving him only with a tingling feeling in his fingers and toes that had him itching to touch Derek.

“Oh, wow,” Stiles breathed when Derek pulled back.

“That tell you how okay I am with this?” Derek smiled wryly as he sat back on the bed. “I’ve been wanting to do that since.. well, for a while. I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

“Oh, thank god.” Stiles finally was able to get his body somewhat under his control again, so he stumbled out of the chair and into Derek’s lap, sending the chair spinning back. “Reciprocity is okay, right?” he asked.

Derek laughed.  _Laughed_ . All Stiles wanted to do was bathe in that sound. And maybe kiss Derek again. Definitely kiss Derek again. When he went to try, Derek put his hand in front of Stiles’ mouth. “Hold up, hold up,” Derek said. “We should probably slow this down a bit.”

“Sorry,” Stiles apologized. “That was too fast? Because I am clearly no judge of these things.”

“It’s just,” Derek hesitated. “I know the way the spell turned out means that we’re supposed to be pretty close to perfect for each other. But that doesn’t mean we’ll do this,” he gestured to the two of them, “perfectly. I don’t exactly have the best track record with healthy relationships.”

“And I have almost no record of relationships at all, unless we count unrequited crushes,” Stiles admitted.

Derek pressed another kiss to Stiles lips, but didn’t linger. “That spell made it sound like this was supposed to be more than just sex. And I think I want that. With you. But I think that means we might need to take this a little slower than making out on your bed with you only in a towel before we even have a single date.”

Stiles looked down and found himself slightly astonished at what he was wearing, or rather, not wearing. “I forgot about the towel. This is somewhat embarrassing.” He looked back up. “If I get dressed can we make out some more?”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Uh, no?”

“Why don’t we go out and grab some food, and then make out.” Derek gently rubbed his fingers down Stiles’ neck. “I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out since you got back from school, and I’d like to at least try to have a real date. Start this off right.”

“Yes, yes, we can do that,” Stiles said, but didn’t move. 

“Stiles.” Derek prodded. “You have to move.”

“Right.” Stiles blinked, then grinned. “One more kiss first?”

This time, when Derek kissed him, soft and sweet, Stiles managed to sneak in a little tongue before he scrambled back and hauled Derek off the bed. “Out, I have to get dressed, and if we’re taking this slow, you can’t watch.” 

Derek did the thing with his eyebrows that signaled he was finding Stiles’ statements very odd. “I distinctly remember you doing some watching the first time I changed my shirt around you,” Derek said.

Stiles grinned. “I promise, if we’re doing this spark thing, you’ll get to see me skyclad on the regular.” 

Derek huffed a laugh, but allowed himself to be pushed out the door. Once it was shut behind him, Stiles did a little shimmy dance that resulted in the towel falling to the floor. 

He was halfway through pulling on a clean pair of jeans when his phone chimed.

It was a text from Lydia.  _Do let me know when the results of the manly tree spanking ritual are in._

He thought about replying, but decided to ignore it. Let her stew for a little while, he thought. He had a  _date_ with a hot werewolf tonight. It would serve her right for meddling. 

Even if he did owe her.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently contemplating making this a series. I have a list of tags I'm thinking about playing with (though I may take requests, we'll see how the muse leads). If I do follow through, the next one up, since it fits with this story so nicely, will probably be "Dangerous Pagan Cuddling."


End file.
